#tear and suck and swallow and drink and drool and relish

[candles-inthewoods]

I wonder how a vampire feels hunger. For regular humans it's just aching and digestive juices and hollowness because we take in solid food. But vampires? Is it extreme thirst? Do their tongues and lips dry so hard and hoarse?

humans feel hunger through the stomach because of solid food but where do vampires feel THEIR hunger??

[obscureamor]

— quiet

♡˖°꒰ ukai keishin x fem! reader

❥  t/w  |  nsfw, public sex, exhibitionism, daddy kink, mentions of keishin drinking, light choking, 18 y/o manager, spiritual successor to ‘gold’

»  certain feelings are revealed after keishin sneaks into your room at training camp.

The room is dully illuminated, faint slithers of moonlight creeping in from gaps in the curtains. Your eyes are already adjusted to the darkness, but every touch of his hands on your body feels like ecstasy. You can hear his gruff pants loud in your ear, the way he groans your name as you moan. 

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, drawn-out and breathy. “I need you to be quiet for me, yeah? Can you do that?”

Keishin’s voice is soft as he speaks into your ear. It’s such a contrast to the way he’s thrusting into you. He’s hitting deep, strokes short and your eyes flit over to Kiyoko as she murmurs incoherent words in her sleep. The image of her is obscured with every snap of Keishin’s hips, your body moving with each thrust and eyes clouding with tears at all the sensations.

His voice. Your friend right next to you. It all makes your head spin, giving you whiplash as you clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds leaving you. Keishin isn't supposed to be here and when he said he had a surprise for you tonight— you didn’t think he meant this.

Your eyes snap shut to try and focus on everything around you. Keishin smells of cigarettes and booze with a dash of mint. It hits you all at once with his face against your neck, lips latched onto the junction of your shoulder while he sucks deep bruises into the skin. A harsh bite has you keening into your hand at the sensation causing a curse to leave his mouth at the alluring sound.

His hands grip your hips tight, so tight you can feel his blunt nails digging into your skin, little crescent shapes being engraved into the flesh. It makes you shiver, puffy lips parting as you pant out allowing drool to leak onto the pillow. The cold metal of the ring on his finger burns you, brands itself into your skin and all you can think about is—

Keishin. Keishin. Keishin. Keishin.

“Kei... Kei, I—” your words are cut off when he shifts his hips, hitting that spot deep inside you. Your hands shakily fall to his biceps, nails sinking into the skin and your thighs snap inward when his hand falls to your hard little clit. His thumb is moving in circles and your walls just greedily suck him in.

“Look at her...” he hisses, “look at her when you cum all over daddy’s cock.”

It’s embarrassing. Your skin feels hot. Your mind feels muddled. And you look at Kiyoko, heated cheek pressed into your pillow as you admire her features. Her soft lips are parted, silky hair fanned out around her as she lays on her back. The usual glasses she wears are placed neatly beside her and—

“Shit, shit, shit, oh god!” you whine out as Keishin pinches your clit harshly.

“Shut up…” He breathes out, hand coming to wrap around your mouth. His eyes are locked onto your center before he stops his movements altogether— robbing you of your end. A sob leaves you, eyes tightly clenching shut and tears now leak down your face. There’s a moment of silence before you open them again, locking eyes with him almost immediately. “You’re always so fucking loud.”

‘M’sorry, M’sorry’ oozes from your mouth. It’s muffled and muddled like the lines that are being crossed, lines that no one seems to care about anymore and the longer you stare at Kiyoko the more you realize you’d gladly do anything for Keishin— he knows it too. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck your sloppy pussy right next to your best friend.” He rolls his hips into you, the words leaving him in a whisper. Somehow his voice drops even more with his next words, “You must really love me, huh?”

You do.

You both know you do and he loves you just as equally… maybe even more. Keishin’s hand leaves your face to grasp yours, fingers lacing before placing them down beside your face on the side furthest from Kiyoko. He noses at your neck, flesh being bitten softly as he thrusts into you steadily. 

“Keishin,” you keen. “Faster, please, please, please, daddy. I promise— promise I’ll be quiet, I just—”

He knows you like it rough, like it when he drives into you so harshly you can’t breathe and your eyes roll back into your skull. He knows you like it when you have finger-shaped bruises on your hips the next day from him grabbing you so roughly. He pulls back, lips curling into a smirk at your fucked out ramblings. “You want daddy to pound into this little pussy?” 

“Yeah, daddy… fucking ruin me.” His eyes widen. “Ruin me, please,” you repeat.

There’s not a second wasted as Keishin's free hand comes up to wrap around your throat. His hips snap into yours with such harshness you know you’re going to be sore tomorrow. The chain around your neck catches his eyes as it glimmers with every jolt of your body. The branding ‘K’ and gold ring reminding him of every little thing you two have done together. He can distantly hear you saying his name, crying it out as if he’s your god— the very and only thing you worship.

There’s a dull papping that makes its way through the room and the both of you wonder how none of the faculty in the room over has woken yet. In some fucked up way Keishin hopes they can hear you, hopes the coaches that were talking about your tight little body can hear that he’s the only one who gets to ruin it, claim it, own it. 

He needs them to know that all of you belongs to him and he knows he can say the same for himself. Keishin knows he doesn’t express it as much as he should but— he’s yours. The thoughts cause him to lean in, lips capturing yours as you moan into his mouth. His hand squeezes yours three times, each for a single word he still has so much trouble saying; I. Love. You.

You’re so lost in each other you forget about the other person in the room, sounds being swallowed by your mouths and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. In the corner of your eye, you see movement— Keishin notices it too.

Kiyoko’s moving.

She’s facing you now and your breath hitches when she reaches out blindly to grab for your hand. There’s a whine that leaves her unconscious state when she can’t find it. You can tell beneath her eyelids her eyes are flickering almost as if they’re searching around for you and in an effort to keep her asleep, you reach out. Her hand is soft in yours and it’s such a contrast to Keishin’s calloused hands. The ones that are holding onto you as he slams into you roughly right now.

You can see her mouth moving, lips forming your name and you try to wrestle your hand out of Keishin’s grip, needing something— anything —to muffle the sounds about to leave your mouth. You can feel the hand wrapped around your throat squeeze before moving up to your jaw, turning your head to the side to face Kiyoko. You can only wonder what her reaction would be like if she woke up right now, wonder what her face would look like at the sight of the team’s coach fucking you brainless.

“Daddy, lemme look at you, please…” you mutter, lip being bitten raw as you swallow all your sounds.

At the sight, his thumb falls onto your bottom lip pulling it out between your teeth before speaking, “Naw, don’t do that... Let daddy hear those sweet sounds before he cums, alright?”

You hum and Keishin’s body seems even closer than before like he’s melted into you as his pelvis rubs against your clit. The friction has you holding Kiyoko’s hand even tighter— mind not even worried about the consequences —and when she whines out your name in her sleep, your walls just pulse and cream around his cock. You cry out his name only to be muffled by his mouth, by his tongue as it laps at every crevice as if he’s never kissed you before. His cock twitches when you bite down on his lip and warmth fills you when he catches sight of the glimmering ‘K’ resting between your tits.

Keishin pulls out one last time before pushing back in swiftly. He hisses when your walls clench at the action and you can feel his cum seep down beneath you both. He lets out a curse at the sight; your pretty pussy stuffed to the brim with his cum. Even though he’s seen it so many times, he’ll never get over it. 

Your tired eyes flicker about, taking everything in. Kiyoko’s still asleep even with her hand almost being crushed by your death grip. The rustling of her blankets is the only thing that can be heard apart from your breathing. Her hand pulls away from yours as she turns over, away from you, away from Keishin and it’s only now that you register his hand toying with your necklace. 

“Keishin… I—”

“I’m—”

You both go to speak, cutting each other off, and instead of attempting again— you don’t. He places his head on your chest, fingers still fiddling with the chain. Immediately, your hands move to run through his hair, the thought of what you were both about to say festering in your minds.

He needs to tell you. He has to tell you. And so he does. 

“I’m tired of hiding this shit,” Keishin speaks so suddenly, determination laced in his voice. “One day… I’ll put a ring on your finger, not on some fucking chain where nobody can see it.”

Doubt flows through him when you don’t respond. It has him second-guessing himself, mouth opening to try and save whatever you have left, but he stops when he hears you take a shuddering breath. 

“I’d like that,” you whisper through a watery smile, “a lot actually...”

It’s quiet after. The both of you relish in each other’s company, forgetting about where you are at that very moment. Completely content and you know in the morning you’ll have to pretend like this never happened… like you’re not in love with Ukai Keishin.

»  a/n  |  happy valentine’s day! i’m sending everyone lots of love and smooches! i hope you enjoyed this! (つω`｡)♡

[icollectyoursins]

Jonathan Joestar x Reader x Dio Brando NSFW

Anon asked for "may i request a spicy jonathan x reader x dio sandwich 😳👉👈 extra kinky please omg,,, 🖤

In typical fanfic writer fashion, I looked up when lube was invented because well... there is no way you’re taking either of these boys without it. It wasn’t invented until 1904 (I think), but Vaseline was a common lube-like substance that was used instead which was invented in 1872. The more you know! I also looked up what kinds of toys they would have used back in the 1880s and... the history of sex toys is fascinating. 

While I’m rambling, this is going to be a long one, just to fit all the “kinky” stuff in, so bear with me. It’s been a while, I know, but it’s very long and I was on break for a bit trying to relax. Anyway, enjoy!

You had arrived at the Joestar household expecting a normal dinner with Jonathan and Dio, but things go a little awry after two of you share a drink. Whatever was in those glasses was, you certainly didn’t mind if it got you between the bodies of two very attractive men.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, mentions of “drugging” I guess, something in the drink makes them very horny, but still able to consent, light riding, Jonathan is too big, so they move on, threesome, belts used as handcuffs, lube (not named, but it’s Vaseline), spitroast x2 (they switch), rough fucking, choking, face fucking, blowjobs, facials.

Word Count: 2578

     Desperate lips crashed together as you clumsily tumbled into the room backwards with Jonathan never breaking the kiss. The door closed behind him and you two gasped, hot breath tickling your faces. You weren’t apart for long and he quickly pulled you back, claiming your lips once again. A part of you questioned how this happened, but mostly you were consumed by his kiss.

     The evening had started relatively normal with you coming over for dinner, drinks were passed around between you, Jonathan and Dio. The next thing you know, you’re practically climbing on top of him, vehemently exploring his body while he did the same. Not wanting to embarrass yourselves, you quickly tried to run to a room so you could be more private.

     You both moaned as he made his way down your neck, gently pressing kisses into your supple skin. Now that you thought about the quickly finished dinner more, you realized someone was missing. Where was Dio? He sat at the table with you, ate with you and then once the drinks came around and your insatiable lust quickly flooding your senses, you lost sight of him.

     You ran your fingers through Jonathan’s hair, relishing in the way he shivered. Finally, you parted, swiftly shucking off your clothes before exploring each other’s bodies, basking in the warmth. It didn’t really matter where Dio was right now. You just wanted-

     “Jonathan.” You breathed, running your hands up his chest, enticing him into another kiss.

     “I know,” he said, panting heavily. His mind quickly raced with what to do, panicking. He’d never felt like this before, so... needy. “On the bed. Now, please.”

     You nodded once, leading him by the hand towards the edge. Strong arms lifted you up, switching your positions so he was lying on it with you on top of him, straddling his waist. You could feel his erection bumping against your behind as he got more comfortable. No more time was wasted and you quickly aligned yourself with the tip, taking a deep breath as you slowly slipped onto him.

     A cry bubbled up from your throat as just the tip stretched you. His hands massaged into your hips, trying to soothe you. You shook your head no. He was too big to take like this. He lifted your hips up again, pulling you close against his chest, whispering into your ear.

     “It’s okay, don’t worry.” Jonathan sat up, still holding you close. “We can do something else. Here, let me-” 

     He switched your positions again, crouching between your legs. Gentle kisses were trailed down towards your genitals, making the anticipation rise up in you quicker. Finally, he got to where you both wanted him. A final kiss was placed above your genitals, then-

     A cold laugh echoed from the door, making the hair on your arms stand up. You immediately started covering each other with various pillows and blankets, hiding from the hungry stare boring into you. Dio. A cool smile was painted on his face. Another hissed laugh passed over his lips, growing louder the hotter your face got.

     “Dio, we can explain!” You began. 

     “Ooh. I believe you, (Y/N).” You felt like you were falling in on yourself under his gaze. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

     “We’re fine!” Jonathan shouted defensively. He must have known more than you. It was an odd question, but you weren’t sure why he was-

     Dio’s eyes fell on you and suddenly everything felt different. Your mind started to quell its fear, focusing more on how soft his lips would feel against yours, how easy it would be to lift you up, manhandling you like you were nothing. There was a jump in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. You wanted both of them.

     Suddenly you zoomed back down to earth. You were pressed up against him, already kissing any part of him you could. How did you get here? Did you care? He stared down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. You were pulled closer to him, then one of his hands started to roam further and further down.

     “We don’t want to keep our little pet waiting, do we, Jojo.” Oh. Oh, god. Both?

     Jonathan shuddered while Dio brought you back towards the bed. Your lips were captured by his, quickly overpowering you. It made you melt how almost addictive his kiss was. Another set of hands danced along your back. The warmth between the two of them was lovely. 

     His clothes were quickly discarded to the side while the other fought for your attention, leaving sweet, but desperate kisses along your shoulders. His hands wrapped around to your front, teasing your nipples. You could feel his hard length against your lower back. Dio returned to you, pulling you away from Jonathan and into a rough kiss. 

     “Let me show you how to do it right, Jojo.” He seethed, bending you over the bed and lining his already erect cock with your ass. He let it slide between your cheeks a few times before he grabbed a glass jar that had previously been in his pocket. Your intended partner, however, made his way around to the front, looking down at you apologetically. 

     Without thinking, you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly jerking it. A shocked cry racked through his body, shocked by the touch. Jonathan had never felt as turned on as he did now. Whatever willpower he had before was completely gone now with the temptation of your lips brushing against the tip of his cock. 

     Dio lathered a slick substance around your hole, slipping one of his fingers in to test your tightness. Now, it was your turn to moan. God, even his finger felt big, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. The more his digit fucked into you, the more your mind was fogged over with lust, shallowly pushing your hips back to get more friction. With a malicious chuckle, he complied, quickly working you up to two fingers and then three.

     You couldn’t help the free moans that came out of you, much to his annoyance. His free hand slammed down on your head, forcing you to swallow as much of Jonathan’s cock as you could. Finally, your mewls were muffled. “Peace and quiet at last. Keep them like that, Jojo. Greedy whore.”

     The room was quickly filled with the sounds of Jonathan’s sweet cries as you happily lavished him, sucking in more and more. Dio soon got bored of fingering you and pulled them out with a smack to your ass, leaving a smear of whatever he used on your cheek. Then, he lined his tip up with you again, wasting no time plunging into you, almost to the hilt. You tried to cry out but were obviously stopped. Tears stung at your eyes when he started thrusting into you roughly, each one.

     Suddenly, your hands were pulled behind your back and tied together with some kind of rope that you assumed he had tossed on the bed while getting undressed. A shudder of excitement rolled through your body. Now, you were completely at their mercy, though you doubted one of them was capable of mercy and it wasn’t Jonathan. A particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars only made the answer more obvious. 

     Dio’s brutal pace only got worse, jerking you forward, making you choke on Jonathan’s dick more and more. Your eyes rolled back into your head as drool dribbled down your chin. Crescents decorated your thighs from where fingernails dug into your skin. A hand was brushed through your hair, gentle and soft. It felt so hot against you. The face behind it was flushed red, panting heavily. 

     Suddenly, he pulled back, almost collapsing into the set of drawers behind him. Despite your mouth being free, you fought to keep your moans quiet, not wanting Dio to think of something worse to shut you up. But, the feel of his cock hitting your sweet spots over and over again it was damn near impossible. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning sinisterly over you, his gaze hot against your back. He doubled over, wrapping his arm around your neck into a chokehold, keeping you close to him while he practically speared through you with this new position.

     Jonathan meanwhile was trying to calm himself. You had felt so good. It should be illegal to feel that good. Oh, and your face, hot and sweaty trying to accommodate him. A moan slipped over his lips, shaking lightly from the exertion. He didn’t want to spoil you. Not yet. He wanted this to be nice for you, at least, before his adopted brother walked into the mix. 

     You were beginning to lose air, tapping on the arm around you, frantically trying to get him off. With a devious chuckle, Dio got up, pulling out of you all too quickly. You squirmed at the loss of something inside you as well as the lack of orgasm. 

     “Jojo!” He said boisterously. “Your turn.” With a hard smack of your ass, he walked away from you, letting the other man take his place. Jonathan did so tentatively. If just your mouth felt that good, what would other parts feel like? “What’s wrong, Jojo? Afraid you’ll break them?”

     “Dio!” He snapped. “Why are you so cruel?”

     A cold laugh echoed in your ears, making you shudder. Dio began to slowly jerk his dick, close enough to bring it to your lips. 

     They continued to bicker and for once you were thankful for the lust controlling your mind, easily blocking them out with thoughts that would make your grandmother blush. 

     “God, just stop fighting and fuck me,” you groaned, too aroused to think of anything but what you wanted. Jonathan looked shocked, but not turned off. 

     “Come on! Give them what they want.” Dio growled, pushing the tip of his cock forward. Immediately, you latched your lips around it, moaning at the residual taste left on it. You looked up at him, cheeks hollowing, creating a suction that drove him mad. He roughly ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing you tightly to hold your head in place, then he began thrusting his hips into you with the same pace as before. 

     Jonathan gently ran his fingers over your sides before lining himself up, praying that you had been “worked open” enough for it to be more pleasurable than painful. Slowly, he pushed himself in, unable to hold back a low grown as he felt your soft, warm walls clench around him. Just like before, the thrusts from the other man pushed you onto him slightly, making you take more.

     The stretch was incomparable to any other you’ve had (aside from Dio). You felt so full, there had to be some kind of bulge, right? If you could voice how good he felt, you would have. It was a long process for him to work up the courage to get to any proper pace, he was worried that if he took it too far, it would easily hurt you. But, you felt so goddamn good.

     Finally, he went in as far as he could, letting out another moan. Then, with the same slow, careful moves, he pulled out almost to the tip. It was as though your insides were pulling him back and he found himself sinking in quicker than he had originally intended. Whatever was making him like this soon took over, turning him into some kind of animal, spearing in and out of you without a sign of stopping. 

     Just as you suspected, you were at their mercy completely, feeling them see-saw you, like some kind of toy. God, you could have died like this and been happy, but you knew you were going to be much happier if you saw this through to the end. The three of you moaned in tandem, letting your pleasure take you over as the men picked up the pace. It was all so good, almost too good. Sweat dripped down your bodies, making your hair cling to your faces. 

     You could feel your orgasm building up in you again, unable to do anything to stop it. Their cocks somehow synced with each other and you swore that if they were any deeper, they might have touched. Your release quickly washed over you, making you see white just as they both thrust into you at the same time, stopping to let your body sort out itself out as you spasmed under them, cumming harder than you ever had.

     The first to pull out was Jonathan, slow and gentle. Then Dio followed, coming around to the other side of the bed. You faintly heard a “come on” followed by your name as you were lifted into the air, then moved to the middle of the room, where they set you on your knees. They crowded over you, one of them (presumably Dio) lightly slapped his cock on your cheek, indicating he wanted you to pick up where you left off. In your post-orgasm haze, you opened your mouth, sucking lazily.

     Gradually, you became more aware, picking up your pace. You used one hand to stroke the shaft that was in your mouth and with the other one, you reached out for Jonathan’s cock, doing the same to his. Their grunts and groans filled the room the more you jerked them. Lifting off one length with a pop, you moved to the other, looking up to see their faces, hot and twisted with pleasure. 

     It didn’t take long for someone’s seed to spill into your mouth with a loud cry. You swallowed every drop, before returning to the first one and finishing him off. Dio’s orgasm was not as intense as Jonathan’s, but when he did, he pushed himself further into your throat, making you choke while he shot his release into it. 

     You pulled back, panting heavily, a string of drool connecting you and his cock. A cruel chuckle filled your ears, making you smile almost drunkenly. You weren’t sure what it was, but something told you the night wasn’t done just yet. Dio pulled you into a rough kiss while Jonathan ran his hands up your sides, grazing his lips against your shoulders. These men were going to be the death of you.

[definitelynotkatesblog]

Gone ∣ Spencer Reid Fic

Summary: Spencer gets a little jealous at a party and pulls Reader aside to sort some things out.

A/N: I’ve loved Spencer since Day 1 but something about PP Spencer just does something to me. 

@ongoingcrisismsc​ requested a possessive Post Prison Spencer and uuuh, I might have gotten a little carried away! But really can you blame me?

And thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for being my beta! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Smut

Warnings: Cursing, Unprotected sex/creampie, Oral (Male and Female Receiving), Fingering

Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer’s welcome home party, which thanks to Spencer’s introverted tendencies was cleverly disguised as a “Rossi sold another ten thousand copies of his book” party was in full swing.

We were all excited for him to be home and to just be around him again. He was different, though.

Where he’d usually be spitting facts into conversations, he just nodded and smiled instead. If someone walked up behind him, he was quick to position himself with his back to a wall and do a survey of the room to make note of everyone’s locations. When the glasses clinked together on the toast, he winced.

I suppose it took a lot for him to be here, but at least he came and seemed content to be surrounded by people who loved him. He chatted with everyone politely and kept a hand on the small of my back for the majority of the night.

A few hours in he started to relax a bit and we drifted apart to make conversation with the others. I sat at the bar with Derek, talking about renovations he was doing on his newest home and how I was dreaming of adding a bay window as a reading nook. A glance around the room told me Spencer was with Penelope who was chattering away, but his eyes were watching me intently.

Derek made a joke about the construction drowning out other sounds, which made me chuckle and double over, catching myself against his arm. When I straightened up, I saw Spencer come into my peripherals and tried to catch my breath so that I could share Derek’s one-liner with him.

“You need to come with me right now,” he said through his teeth.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up at his tone, which let the rest of my body know there was no time for hesitation. My brows knit together as I placed my drink down on the bar and shot Morgan a confused look. He shook his head and put his palms up, not willing to get involved.

I started to ask him what was wrong, but his hand formed a vise grip on my upper arm, effectively silencing me. I let out a soft yelp as he dragged me along, forcing my legs to make quick steps to match his longer strides. I tried pulling my arm from away, but it  just made his grip tighter.

He kept his voice low, “Is this what you were doing while I was gone? Hm? Flirting?”

Gone. He always said gone. Never ‘arrested,’ ‘in prison,’ or ‘in jail.’ Just: gone. Like he was away on a business trip or grocery shopping.

Flirting? What in the fresh hell?

“W-what? I was just talking to Derek!”

My attempt at reasoning with him fell on obstinate ears. He pulled me through a door down a dimly lit hallway, tossing me into the room and closing the door behind him quietly. My eyes tried to search the room in the dark, but I couldn’t make out any distinguishing shapes. Before I could feel for a light switch, Spencer grabbed a fistful of my hair and walked us backwards, guiding me by the nape of my neck with our middles pressed together until the back of my legs hit something cool and hard. He reached slightly behind me and turned on a small lamp by our side, causing a small pool of light to form in the room.

Books covered the walls, velvet arm chairs and a leather chaise offered cozy places to wrap up with a piece of literature from the shelves. Rossi’s library. Spencer had told me about how impressive his collection was – he’d laughed about how if he was as rich as Rossi, he’d have all the first editions in his library, too.

The light bouncing off his face cast shadows that illuminated the sharp edges of his jaw and dark hollows under his eyes. When he raked his bottom lip through his teeth, the light bounced off the wetness and left a slight glow on the soft skin. He was a vision.

The hand at the base of my neck pulled my face closer to his and our lips crashed together. I kissed him breathlessly, still trying to figure what came over him, why we were in here – though I was not complaining – and how the hell he thought I would ever flirt with Derek Morgan.

My hands flew to his arms, pulling him closer to me in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

He tore my face away from his and took a step back, leaving me standing against the desk trying to catch my breath. I reached out for him, but his hands made busy unbuckling his belt and pants, his eyes not leaving mine.

“On your knees,” he instructed.

I nodded, immediately dropping to my knees and inching towards him.

Once he freed himself from the restriction of his underwear, he pumped a fist over his cock once, twice before tapping the tip on my waiting tongue.

A soft sigh left his lips as I closed my lips around his cock and swirled my tongue over his head. I wrapped my hand around him at the base and used it to spread the wetness, creating more in my mouth before sitting up higher on my knees, meeting his eyes and letting the pooling saliva drip from my mouth onto his length in my hand.

Pumping his cock in my fist, I varied the pressure of my squeezes from top to bottom, then dragged my tongue slowly from his base upwards, wrapping my lips around his tip before slowly bringing him to the back of my throat. I gagged for a moment, relishing the sound of Spencer struggling to keep his composure. With that, I could feel the heat of my own pleasure forming between my legs.

I swallowed around him in my throat. His hips jerked forward, causing tears to sting the back of my eyes.

Using what little space was between the back of my head and the desk, I pulled back, swirling my tongue, twisting my fist, and bobbing my head in a circular motion around him.

What sounded like a growl left his throat and his hands flew to grip the edge of the desk behind me, caging my head between his hands. I glanced up and saw him staring down at me like I was something to eat.

Before I could bring my other hand up to assist, Spence reached down and grabbed my chin, coaxing me to a standing position before laying a heated, sloppy kiss on my lips.

But again, before I could lock my fingers in his hair to pull him deeper to me, he pulled away.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Spencer had reached down to grip the back of my thighs and pulled me up onto the desk behind me. He worked himself to stand between my thighs, sliding his hands over my shoulders up to cup my face, where he ran his thumbs across my lips to smear the extra saliva over my cheeks. One finger slipped into my mouth, and my cheeks instinctively hollowed around it. He graced me with a half smile before using the hand on my face to push me backwards into a lying position on the desk. His thumb left my mouth with a soft pop.

I propped myself up onto my elbows to watch him. His hands ran down my front, then pushed the edge of my dress up to expose my heated core to the cool air of the room. His thumbs hooked into the fabric resting on my hips and pulled it off in a swift motion, letting them land somewhere in the room.

Spencer just stood there for a moment and cocked his head to the side, taking in the sight of me laid out for him. I blushed for a moment, realizing I was spread open on a very respected man’s desk with drool on my chin from gagging on Spencer’s dick, and I was probably about to be punish-fucked for flirting with someone that I actually hadn’t been flirting with.

I was pulled from the spiralling thoughts when Spencer dropped from my line of sight. I pushed myself up further trying to find him. In a swift movement, hands pushed my knees further apart and pulled me forward so my ass was on the edge of the desk. Before I could object, his tongue laid a long, flat trail up my center, causing my head to fall back against the desk.

The cool wood against my shoulder blades mixed with the expert ministrations of his mouth made my back arch, forcing a gasp from my lungs.

“Quiet,” he mumbled against me.

I focused on trying to control my breathing and moans, pursing my lips together and praying I was actually as quiet as I was trying to be.

Spencer had been quiet and more reserved since he’d been home. I didn’t want to pry or force him to talk about anything until he wanted to. And yet, everything he hadn’t said was on the tip of his tongue, writing a novel in long licks and broad, wet laps against my sex.

My cries were met with content hums against meas he buried his tongue deeper.

He continued, alternating quick licks with lazy ones, using his chin to tease between my folds, and bringing a finger up to start gently fucking me and exploring the wetness he’d created.

He added another finger and sucked gently over my clit, coaxing my orgasm from where it had been slowly brewing. Within moments, the wave of bliss crashed over me and spread all over my body like wildfire over a dry savannah.

His name danced with moans in my mouth, leaving my lips as unintelligible cries. As I shivered and came down to my body again, he stood and pumped a fist over his still hard cock and positioned himself at my entrance.

I lifted my head to look at his face, to gauge where the hell his head was at that moment but saw him preoccupied, watching himself enter me. He started at an agonizing pace, slowly stretching and sinking into me before finding a delicious pace. He would pull his hips away, almost removing himself completely before filling me again.

The sounds of his thighs hitting my ass, our mangled breathing, and whatever was rattling around in the drawers below us filled the room. His pace quickened, replacing the long, languid movements with more urgent thrusts. The sudden change in pace elicited a moan from deep in my chest.

His thumb started drawing torturous circles into my clit as he watched me squirm, a thoughtful look painted on his features.

“Oh, my god. Oh fuck, Spence!” My hands gripped the edge of the desk by my thighs in an attempt to keep myself from sliding across the desk.

“Hmmm? Did you think of someone else fucking this tight little pussy while I was gone?” he hissed. His hips began to piston forward, creating a delicious punishment for my alleged flirtatious crimes. Sobs escaped by chest as he continued, grinding the words out between thrusts.

I knew what he was asking. What he wanted to know. Suddenly his reaction to me talking to Morgan made more sense.

I wanted to tell him that I was only ever his, that I couldn’t ever imagine giving myself to anybody else. I wanted to grab his face and yell that he was the only man that could make me lose myself in him.

And truthfully, I couldn’t even bring myself to feel that way with him being gone. Seeing him behind the plexiglass in that jumpsuit with his hair longer and stubble growing was fucking attractive as all hell but... it didn’t make me want to fuck anybody else. Surely he knew that?

But on account of him pounding into me so hard my eyeballs were shaking, all I could muster up the breath support to say was, “N-no, only you, onl-“ before my core seized and shook, the waves of pleasure racking my body. My walls clenched around him like a fist, holding him in place.

He threw his head back on a moan, pulling my hips further down onto him, his own release not far behind mine. One final thrust had him bottomed out, emptying himself inside of me.

Our heavy breaths mingled as he fell forward, catching himself on his forearms above me so our chests were barely touching. He looked into my eyes for a moment before burying his face into my neck, his sweaty curls sticking to my jaw.

We laid there for a moment before he peeled off of me and started redressing himself. He pulled a handkerchief from his chest pocket and cleaned me in silence. I pulled myself up and started searching the dimly lit floor for my panties. I couldn’t find them for the life of me and I’d be damned if one of Rossi’s maids was the one to find my soaked lace fucking panties strewn across the room.

I didn’t have to look much further when I saw them dangling off of Spencer’s index finger. I lifted my eyes slowly to meet his expectant gaze. When I reached forward to grab them, he moved his hand away, clutching them in his fist.

“I think I’ll actually hold on to these,” he said, stuffing them in his breast pocket.

My eyes almost popped out of my god damned head and rolled across the floor. “Wh-I-Spenc-“ I gaped, refusing to believe he was going to make me interact with a party full of coworkers with no fucking panties on.

“Now you’re gonna go back out there and behave yourself.”

I stood still and squinted at him, waiting for a “just kidding”, but one did not come. I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders before exiting the room, making a beeline for the bar to get another drink. My throat was a little sore and I needed something to take the edge off the nerves.

Derek took a sip from his drink and locked eyes with me over the lip of his glass. I blushed and averted my gaze. Surely there was no way he knew what Spencer and I had just done. I took a sip from my own drink to hide the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Not even a demo team could have covered the sounds coming from that room, girl.”

Derek laughed as I choked on my drink, and let out a full bellied laugh as Spencer joined us.  He snaked a hand around my waist, grabbing a cheeky handful before resting on my hip.

His foot rested on the metal railing that skirted the bottom of the bar, creatively positioning himself against my backside.

Without the extra layer of fabric between my dress and my ass, coupled with the cool draft, the heat from his hand and slight bulge in his pants scorched my skin.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at Derek and smiled knowingly, bringing the edge of the glass to his lips.

The perfectly-timed choral laughter from the other room felt like it could be for us, but I couldn’t be sure. I took another sip from my glass and tried to ignore the drumming of Spencer’s fingers against my hip.

——

Tell me all the things!

[weeb-stomper]

Bakugou KatsukixFem!Reader - Desk Work

Word Count: 2,170

~Hello~

*In surprised old man voice* “It’s been 57 years.....”

No seriously, sorry for not posting in so long! Art block is a bitch :( But I’m back! I have something in the works that’s taking way longer than I thought it would, so I busted this out over the last few days just to get things goin again on the ol’ writing blog :) hope you enjoy, NSFW below cut

special thank you to @wootato and @kat-unzel for beta reading this so many times. Also tagging @cupcake-rogue because she went out of her way to mention something I wrote in a post the other day and she made me feel all UwU-soft :)

Tagging all my friends cause ha

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     Patrolling with Dynamight had been difficult at first. He was abrasive and stand-offish, a wolfish thirst for power kept him from having many friends and the calculated strength he brought to every fight was admittedly a bit scary. Civilians were equal-parts likely to ask for his autograph as they were to cross the street when they saw the two of you coming, with the exception of the countless women who would attempt to chat him up throughout your patrols. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, if you were honest. He was quite attractive, and you’d passed an embarrassing amount of time wondering what those calloused fingers might feel like digging into the meat of your thighs, what that mocking sneer might taste like when it melted into your mouth…But considering the cold way he brushed off his adoring public, those fantasies remained as they were. Fantasies.

     All you could say now was that if you’d had any idea how this day might turn out, you would have worn cuter underwear.

     You were sat in Bakugou’s lap, your back against his chest and his feet hooked around your ankles, prying your knees open so wide your hips hurt. You wondered in passing where exactly your shorts had gone before a sharp pain at your pressure point erased your thoughts once again, the resulting moan echoing in the stale air of his office. Your jaw ached, Bakugou’s fingers stretching your mouth open so wide you thought your lips might split, his other hand pinching and tweaking your nipple underneath the stretchy material of your hero costume’s top. The taste of his sweat flooded your mouth, his rough fingers smashing your tongue against the sharp edges of your teeth and allowing drool to spill out and run down your chin. His breath was hot against your neck as he sucked another mark onto the sensitive skin just below your ear, the overwhelming scent of burnt caramel filling your nose.

     “C’mon sweetheart, where’s all those stupid jokes now?” Bakugou hissed against your ear, hand dropping from your chest to rub harsh circles against your clit. “You were so fuckin annoying on patrol today, I thought for sure you’d be a good girl for me.”

     A choked sob wracked your shoulders as his pace picked up, the rumble of his manic laughter reverberating through your ribs completely overwhelming your senses: Taste, smell, hearing, feeling, he was everywhere on you at once and it was just too much. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing against him, wordlessly pleading for more. Your head spun, growing more and more hazy as his ministrations continued, dragging ragged moans and whines from your lungs against your will. If he’d just let you cum once, if he could show you that kindness, you’d do anything.

     Your head tilted towards the door of his office in the far corner of the room, noting with a cracked whimper that he hadn’t even bothered to lock it before he’d set on you. You felt him smile against your shoulder as his eyes followed yours, a pang of panic ringing in your head a split second before he sank two fingers inside of you. A guttural moan poured from your lips, your back bowing against him as he began working you over.

     “Heh...you finally noticed? Took ya long enough, sweetheart. You’re dumber than I thought.” He chuckled, feeling you clench around his fingers at his harsh words. “You like that, huh? Then why don’t ya beg for me, sweetheart?”

     A fresh torrent of drool dripped past your lips as Bakugou finally pulled his hand from your mouth, fingers still connected to your lips by a nearly-invisible strand of saliva. Swallowing back as much as you could, you worked your jaw open and closed, easing some of the built up tension there. It had been painful, but you couldn’t help but miss the taste of him. An all consuming sense of emptiness mixed into your lust clouded mind when his other hand trailed up from between your legs, and you let out a low whimper at the loss. If he kept up like this, you were sure you’d pass out. His hands settled on your hips, gently urging you off his lap and turning you to face him.

     He remained slumped in the chair, a wide grin showed the now familiar sharp canines at the edges of his smile. Half lidded eyes raking down your face, trailing across the swelling marks that framed your neck on either side before skipping down to settle between your legs, heightening the feeling of your own slick rolling down your thighs, and his breathing faltered for a moment. It was humiliating, standing half naked and wrecked in front of your boss like some fucked out groupie, and your hands subconsciously drifted to the hem of your top, knotting into the elastic material as you shifted anxiously in front of him. Risking a glance, you noticed the strained tent of his pants. Even through the thick fabric of his hero costume you could tell he was big and, you realized with a surge of pride, that he wanted you. A vicious grin stretched your abused lips.

     Bakugou was silent as you sank to your knees between his legs, his smirk falling as you slid your hands up his muscled thighs, looking up at him through tear spattered lashes with wide, innocent eyes as you worked his belt undone. The softness of your touch left him frozen, his head tipping back against the seat when you finally tugged down his waistband to free his cock. Flattening your tongue, you licked a long strip up the underside of him, drinking in the loud groan that slipped past his lips. Those hands you’d quickly grown addicted to twitched, moving to tangle in your hair, but you slapped them away. He growled as you continued taunting him, placing small kitten licks and sloppy kisses against his member and relishing the needy way he tried to push into your mouth whenever you strayed too close to the head.

     “I don’t beg for shit.” Your voice was hoarse but confident. You were playing a dangerous game and you knew it, but seeing him all riled up from your teasing was such a power trip that you couldn’t resist.

     Your stomach dropped as your eyes slid up to Bakugou’s face, meeting his gaze for the first time since before he’d closed the door. His lips were pulled back in an animalistic sneer, glaring down at you with half-lidded eyes. The furious crimson staining his cheeks did nothing to soften his expression, like it might have were this literally any other situation. A small giggle tumbled from your mouth despite the warning written plainly on his face. Ya, you’d worked him up. 

     Big mistake.

     His hand shot into your hair, gripping tightly at the roots and guiding your head to him while the other hand held his cock steady. He shoved himself sloppily against your lips, smearing precum across your mouth and cheeks. You gasped as his hold on your hair shifted, a burning pain exploding across your scalp, and he seized the opportunity to force his way past your swollen lips and bottom out in your mouth. Tears pricked your eyes once again at the new sensation as his now-free hand shifted into your hair to maneuver your head along his length. 

     “Keep runnin your mouth, sweetheart.” Bakugou snarled, slamming himself against the back of your throat and making you gag against the intrusion.

     He shuddered, rough hands cementing you in place against him. Your eyes widened, a reflexive wave of panic sang through your veins as the seconds stretched on, your nails digging deep into the tops of his legs and a hazy tingling the edges of your mind as the lack of oxygen made itself known. You hollowed your cheeks around him, doing your best to work your tongue against his shaft and dropping a hand between your legs to give some much-needed attention to your neglected core. The feeling was euphoric, the tension building inside you feeling more and more unbearable as Bakugou’s moans mingled with the small whimpers escaping around his cock until your shoulders were shaking. Pins and needles erupted across your skin as your orgasm crashed over you, your shoulders folding forward as you slumped against him, thighs twitching as you rolled your hips into your hand.

     He tore himself from your mouth with a stuttering groan, ignoring the way you coughed and sputtered for air as he rose from his seat, pulling you onto unsteady feet. Spinning you around quickly, he planted a hand between your shoulders and shoved you down against the desk in front of you. The cool wood felt good against your heated skin and you relaxed against the surface. You clutched the edges of the fine wood for support as you indulged in your peak, savoring the lingering muscle twinges and blissed out fog still wrapping your mind. It was only when you felt something hard press against your entrance that you came to your senses, managing to slur out a ‘wait’ before he sank into you to the hilt, immediately pulling you undone again. You almost screamed, patches of white popping in your vision as he began thrusting into you wildly, writhing in painful ecstasy as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. The sound of that malicious laughter cut filled your ears once again 

     “Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me.” He groaned, planting a hard slap against your ass. “Keep making those cute little noises for me, ok?”

     You were being too loud, you knew, but you couldn’t stop the salacious moans and whimpers from bubbling past your lips between mindless praises and begs. Dignity was a forgotten concept at that moment. You couldn’t care less if someone walked in, saw you rocking back into his Bakugou’s thrusts like the pathetic, desperate little thing you felt like, or heard the way you mewled and cried for your boss to fuck you till you couldn’t breath. All that matter was chasing the high that Bakugou gave you, the stretch in your walls as he used you completely for himself.

     The breath was again stolen from your lungs as he slammed down on top of you, pressing your chest so hard against the desk you could feel your ribs creak. His rhythm was growing sloppy, hands groping you wherever he could reach as he neared his own climax slipping beneath your shirt to dig into the burning flesh of your waist. A sudden desire erupted in your lusty mind, and you lifted your head, trying in vain to communicate with the man above you. He let out a frustrated growl that reverberated against your back, threading his fingers into your hair and jerking your head to the side enough to look you in the face.

     “What the hell do you want, sweetheart? Spit it out!” He demanded, carmine eyes glued to your bruised lips.

     “I’m on the pill!” You sobbed, voice no more than a cracked whine.

     You shuddered at the wolfish grin that split his face as he processed your words, releasing your hair and digging his fingers into your waist hard enough to bruise.

     “You wanna be my little slut? All filled and dripping with my cum?”

     You nodded frantically, struggling to match him when his pace picked up.

     His eyes darkened. “Then say please.”

     You didn’t hesitate. How could you?

     “Katsuki, please!”

     That was it. He hugged you tight against his chest as he finished inside of you, painting your insides with thick ropes of cum, thrusting into you shallowly as he rode out his high, the immense feeling of fullness bringing you to your own peak once again. You went completely limp against the desk, letting out a sharp wail as tremors took over your body once again. It was the most deliciously overwhelming thing you’d ever experienced, completely blotting out your vision for a few seconds and cancelling out everything except the feeling of him still buried inside of you.

     Eventually, the two of you separated, Bakugou tucking himself neatly back into his pants before crossing the room to retrieve clean clothes from the small cabinet in the corner opposite the door. Rather than right yourself, you slid to the floor behind the desk. The twinges in your legs hadn’t completely subsided, but the cold air of the room was starting to become an issue as you realized again that you had no idea where Bakugou had thrown your shorts earlier. Your eyes trailed lazily around the room, briefly appreciating the sight of a now-shirtless Bakugou before grazing past the open door.

     OPEN DOOR!?

     Your eyes darted back to Bakugou, who was now staring at the door with a mixture of horror and shock. You couldn’t help but laugh, slumping back against the desk.

     “Jeanist is gonna be so mad at us.”

@kat-unzel @wootato @sawamooora @honeyyandere @anxietyplusultra @redpandaramblings @krystalwithakay @dynamightslittlehotpocket @spooky-all-year-round @nkjktk @cupcake-rogue

[get-your-fics]

Violent Ends - Chapter Eighteen

I Love You

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Stop! Let go of me!” You thrashed your bare legs against the bed, your feet kicking the mattress. “Stop it! Untie me!”

I finished tying your hands to the headboard, pulling the rope tight with my teeth. I sat back on my heels and dusted off my hands, admiring my handiwork. Your completely naked and exposed form laid face up on the bed. Your hands were painfully restrained above you with thick rope to the headboard. You tugged against your constraints, but I had double and triple tied those knots. There was no way you were getting out of them.

“There, perfect.” I grinned like a crocodile barring its teeth. “Now, let’s wake up our guest, shall we?”

I turned to face where Grace was at the foot of the bed. She was still out cold, with rope looped around her wrists to the arms of the chair and around her ankles to the legs. Her head lolled to the side, drool dribbling out of the corner of her mouth and staining her dress. She had dried up, crusted blood on the side of her head where some bits of glass still stuck out of her skin, and she reeked of the Pinot Noir I had dumped on her.

You looked fearfully between me and Grace’s unconscious form. “What are you going to do to her?”

I smiled sweetly at you. “Well, I promised not to kill her, didn’t I?” I scooted to sit closer to Grace on the bed. “At least, not until I’ve had my fun first.” I raised my palm and smacked Grace in the face. “Wakey, wakey, Grace! Time to wake up!”

I gave her other cheek a solid slap for good measure, causing her head to fall to the other side. Her cheeks were turning a violent shade of flushed red. “Stop it!” you yelled. “Get your hands off of her!”

Grace’s eyelashes twitched before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, her pupils foggy and clouded with sleep. She slowly stirred out of her unconsciousness, lifting her head. She sat up straight in her chair and tried to stretch her limbs against her restraints. When she couldn’t extend them all the way, her brow furrowed. She tried again, this time jerking ferociously against the rope. Her eyes shot open, no longer dazed and confused.

“Good morning, Grace.” She jolted at the sound of my voice, and she snapped her head forward to make eye contact with me. “How did you sleep? Well, I hope?”

“Wh-what’s going on?” she stuttered, straining against her bonds. “Why did you do this to me?”

“I have to say, you really don’t know when to stop, do you?” I shook my head and laughed. “You really just can’t stay away. I mean, I’m used to girls being all over me, but you? You’re a whole new level. I mean, I literally called out another girl’s name during sex and straight up told you to fuck off, and you still couldn’t stay away.”

“Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Please, somebody! Help me!” I let out a disappointed sigh and rolled my eyes. “There’s no point in screaming. No one is around for miles.” I reached over and grabbed my pocket knife off of the nightstand. “I already explained all this to (Y/N) once when I first took her.” I flicked it open and held the blade against her throat. “But the difference between you and her is that I don’t care if you die.”

“Bruce, stop!” you objected. “Please, don’t hurt her! You don’t have to kill her!” I looked over my shoulder at you. “I don’t have to kill her?” I repeated. “What am I supposed to do then, gorgeous? Let her go? She’ll tell on me if I do that.”

“Then keep her here with me,” you begged. “Please, anything, just don’t kill her.”

“Why would I keep her here? I don’t care what happens to her, gorgeous. I don’t care if she lives or dies. It would be pointless and a strain on my resources, not to mention she’d be a pain in both of our asses.” I gripped the handle of the knife harder until my knuckles turned white. “But I have to say, I admire how much of a fight you’re putting up. I can’t say it’d be the same if the shoe was on the other foot.”

I stared at Grace and analyzed every movement she made. I relished in the way her entire body quivered slightly. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and ran down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears to roll down her cheeks and leave tracks in their wake. She swallowed roughly, and the blade pressed deeper into her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. It was no where near as pretty as yours, but it was still a sight to see nonetheless.

I retracted the knife from her throat. “I won’t kill you, not yet anyway.” I set the knife back down on the nightstand. “First, I want to show you how much more (Y/N) means to me, more than you ever will.” I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. “There are actually a lot of differences between you and her, and I’m going to make you watch all the things I do to her that I’ll never do to you.” I placed a hand on your ankle.

“Bruce, stop it.” You gritted your teeth. I ignored you and slid my hand up your leg to your knee. “Don’t touch me.”

I leered down at you. “Fine, I’ll gag her, gorgeous, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

I leaned over and grabbed a handkerchief off of the nightstand. I sat back up and reached for Grace. She leaned away as far as possible until her back was pressed against the back of the chair. She whined as I shoved the handkerchief into her mouth, muffling the noise. I tied it behind her head before letting go. I watched as she bit down on the cloth and shook her head form side to side, trying to shake free, but it was of no use.

“There.” I turned around and focused my dark gaze on you. “Now, where were we?”

I crawled towards you on the bed. “No.” Your voice started out small, but slowly grew in intensity. “No! Stop it, Bruce! Get away from me!”

You started to kick your legs again as I drew closer, but I easily caught them. I spread your legs and pinned them to the mattress with my hands, exposing you to Grace. You shrieked and wriggled your upper body, pulling on the rope tied around your wrists. It stayed strong. I settled between your legs, smirking up at you. Then, I stuck my tongue out and swiped it through your folds.

A shudder ran through you, and you bucked your hips. Though, whether it was to get away from me or out of seeking more pleasure, I couldn’t tell. I lowered my head again and licked another stripe up the length of your slit. Your voice cracked, and you arched your back against the bed, the back of your head digging into the pillow. I wrapped my lips around your clit and took it into my mouth, sucking. You parted your lips to let out another bloodcurdling scream, but nothing came out. Instead, your expression twisted into one of pleasure, and a breathy moan escaped your lips.

I continued to lap at you, swirling the tip of my tongue around your clit. I tried to listen to what Grace was doing behind me, but she had gone silent. I could feel your body slowly giving into me, and you stopped trying to fight me, too preoccupied with the pleasure I was causing you. I lifted my hand and pressed my finger against your entrance. You tensed against my touch, and I drew circles around your entrance. I felt your juices gather on the pad of my finger and smiled against you.

I pulled away from you, my chin wet with a mixture of your slick and my saliva. “Are you sure you don’t like this, gorgeous? ‘Cause you’re dripping.” The obscene sound of your arousal as I rubbed my finger over your entrance became abundantly clear, and your complexion flushed pink. “I think you like being watched.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but I pushed my finger into you before you could get a word out. You squeaked instead and went stiff against me. Your pussy clenched down on my finger as I thrust it further into you.

“Shhh,” I placated you in a soothing tone. “Show her how good you are for me, how well you can take me.”

I pumped my finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. When I thought you felt prepared, I pressed another into you. I twisted my wrist as I moved my fingers in and out, and I curled them to brush against that special spot deep inside of you. You gasped, and your hands flexed against your constraints, except I didn’t think you were trying to get out of them anymore. I think you wanted something to hold onto, to bury your fingers in my dark curls and yank on them to stabilize yourself as the world spun around you.

I attached my lips to your clit as I thrust my fingers in and out of you. I moaned as I sucked on your swollen bud, sending vibrations that went straight to your core and shot tingles up your spine. Your moans started to increase in frequency and grow higher in pitch. I sped up the pace of my fingers to match the speed of your rapidly impending orgasm. You looked down at me, and my eyes met yours. I curled my tongue around your clit as I slid my fingers all the way into you, and that was all you needed to come undone.

You closed your eyes as your orgasm washed over you, a high-pitched mewl falling from your lips. I proceeded to finger you through your high, placing kitten licks on your clit that sent aftershocks through you. I detached my mouth from you and pulled my fingers out, licking them clean. I turned around to look at Grace behind me.

She was sitting in the chair, silently, tears streaming down her cheeks and gathering at her chin. They dripped off and hit the skirt of the dress she was wearing. She gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the wood and leaving scratches. The look in her brown eyes was unreadable; it was a mix of fear, and horror, and the slightest hint of arousal. It made my pulse spike and my blood burn with a blazing fire.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous,” I leaned over and fumbled for the pocket knife on the nightstand, not taking my eyes off of her, “but I want to hear Grace for this next part.”

I reached for her and ripped the handkerchief out of her mouth. She sucked in a breath and parted her lips, preparing to scream. But before she could, I flipped the blade out.

It all happened so fast. One second, she was fine, and the next, her throat was cut open. The blade sliced through her skin in an instant. Her eyes bulged like they were about to pop out of her skull. All the light and passion and emotion that had been in them a moment before drained and seeped until they were filled with nothing. Just two black holes void of life.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice shaking the bedroom walls.

Then her head fell back, and blood spurted out of the incision in her neck. It hit me in the face, and I winced. It drizzled over me like red rain and coated me in a thick, sticky layer. You were screaming behind me, thrashing on the bed as some of the blood hit you and trying to press up against the headboard to avoid the spray. I embraced it. I lifted my chin up to the ceiling and closed my eyes as it washed over me, running my fingers through my dark curls.

When you fell silent, I tried to wipe the blood out of my eyes but only succeeded in smearing it all over my face and hands. I opened my eyes anyway, blinking rapidly. Blood no longer spewed out of the deep gash in her neck like a jet stream. Instead, dark red liquid oozed out in heavy drops and stained her skin. Her head lolled to the side, and her body slumped in the chair, completely limp and lifeless. Her eyes were still wide open, but they were out of focus. They saw nothing. They were dull and gray, devoid of all color. She was an empty shell, a barren husk of the person she used to be. Her jaw hung open in a scream that would never come.

I twisted around on the bed to see you still tied to the headboard. Your eyes were glued to Grace’s dead body, like it was too horrific to look away from. Your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and a layer of blood. The sheets next to you were spotted ruby red, and your chest heaved. Your whole body trembled, every inch of you on edge. It made my cock twitch at the thought of your veins pumping with pure adrenaline, of fear coursing and rushing through you.

I clawed at the sheets as my eyes turned dark. I moved towards you like a predator stalking its prey, the mattress groaning in complaint underneath me. You snapped out of your trance and switched your gaze to look at me. You writhed on the bed, the rope digging into the skin of your wrists as you did so. You kicked your legs at me as I neared, shouting incoherent babbles of desperation. I easily apprehended your offending limbs and once again spread your legs for me.

“You’re a monster!” you yelled so loud your voice went hoarse, your complexion matching the color of Grace’s blood. “Monster! Monster!”

I wondered if that was the only word your brain could comprehend at the moment. I chuckled, and your face contorted with anger. You reared back before spitting in my face. Your saliva landed directly on my nose, running down the bridge. I lifted my hand and gathered it on my fingers before sticking it in my mouth, humming with pleasure. The pleased smile on your face vanished, and you backed away from me as far as you could on the bed.

I took my fingers out of my mouth, sucking them dry with an audible slurp, before descending on you. My mouth attacked yours with a voracious growl, and I shifted so I pinned your legs down with my knees. I reached down and undid the zipper on my slacks. Dragging it down felt like it took forever. I hooked my thumbs under my slacks and boxers and pushed them down in one go. You yelped, but my mouth swallowed all the noises you made. You fought against me as I forced my tongue past your lips and into your mouth. The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue and lips, but it only served to fuel my desire for you.

I pushed your knees up by your shoulders and positioned myself at your entrance. I pulled away from your lips, out of breath and my lips swollen. I stared into your eyes as I pushed into you, my face centimeters from yours. You yelped, and the sound echoed in my ears. You were still slick from the orgasm I had previously given you, so it was easier to thrust into you to the hilt. I pulled my hips back and snapped my hips against you sharply, jolting you on the bed. You let out a shaky exhale, your warm breath fanning my face.

I set a slow and steady pace, enjoying the feel of you around me. I let out a low groan. You were so tight and warm and wet. I pressed my chest against yours, our bodies sliding against each other with blood. I sped up, digging my fingers into your hips so hard I was sure I would leave bruises. Your wails and hollers were barely audible over the noise of skin slapping against skin. The mattress squeaked underneath us in time with my thrusts, and the headboard knocked against the wall, though because of you tugging on the rope or my thrusts, I couldn’t tell.

I leaned down so my lips grazed the shell of your ear as I spoke, “Say you love me,” I whispered.

You shot me a crazed, untamed, wild look. “No!” you cried.

“Say it.” I snaked my arm between our bodies and brushed your clit with my thumb. “Say it, and I’ll make you cum again.”

You curled your upper lip at me. “I don’t care!” you shouted. “I’ll never say that to you! Never!”

I rubbed circles over your clit in time with my thrusts. Your defiance weakened for a moment, and I could see the need in your eyes. Just as your breath hitched in your throat, I retracted my hand, and you let out a whine I didn’t think you meant to. I glared down at you. “Say you love me!” I anchored myself on my hand next to your head.

You wiggled underneath me. “No.” Your voice was breathy. I could tell your resolve was fading fast and your walls were breaking down.

My hand returned to your clit, and I tilted my pelvis so I pounded into you at a new angle. The head of my cock brushed against that spot inside of you with every thrust. I pressed down harder on your clit, and you squealed. “Say it, or Grace won’t be the only person I kill today.”

Your eyes flashed with fear, and I knew that I got you hooked. You bit your bottom lip before mumbling something I couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” I asked in a condescending tone.

You clenched your jaw and repeated yourself a little louder. But your voice cracked, and all the vowels and consonants seemed to slur and blend together into one giant, indistinguishable mess.

“A little louder, gorgeous. I can’t hear you.” I rammed into you at an inhuman speed, pulling all the way out before impaling you again roughly.

You swallowed your pride. “I love you!” you screamed, jerking tears from your eyes. They ran down the sides of your face and collected on the pillow under your head.

I grinned down at you and matched my pace with my hand on your clit. You seemed to forget yourself for a minute and bucked your hips against my hand. You let out a strangled mix between a moan and a scream as you came. Your pussy clamped down on my cock, and your juices ran down your thighs. I continued to swirl my fingers over your clit until you were done riding out your high.

I panted as I pounded into you. I chased after my release and rutted into you ferociously. I grunted animal-like with each thrust. I felt like I was seeing red, and in a way, I really was. I stilled as I came inside of you, spilling my seed into you and painting your walls white. I groaned and closed my eyes, feeling waves of euphoria pulse through me.

I pulled out of you and opened my eyes. I stared down at your form. Your eyes were half-lidded, and your chest rose up and down. You weeped softly, snot bubbling from your nose. I looked down to between your thighs. Cum dribbled out of your pussy and coated your thighs, mixing with the streaks of Grace’s blood that smudged across your skin.

I collapsed on top of you, crushing you with my weight. Every cell in my body thrummed at what I had heard you say. Even though you had only said the words once, they seemed to echo in my ears until all I could hear you say was “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in your sweet, heavenly voice over and over and over again.

I know I had made you say it, and I know you didn’t mean it, not even close. But laying on top of you covered in blood, I could almost convince myself it was true.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

[madpanda75]

“Fifties Fantasy”

I’ve had this idea for awhile about my favorite dirty trashcan, Trujillo. What if Nevada had a secret guilty pleasure for wholesome cheesy tv shows and the reader catches him.

Warning: NSFW Rough sex, Knife play

You and Nevada hadn’t been together long. In fact, you were the first person in years to be given the title of “girlfriend” by the powerful drug lord. It was a whirlwind relationship and soon Trujillo was asking you to move in with him. Boundaries having been crossed, you both were able to open up to each other in a way you had never experienced before.

Living with Nevada was different than just dating him. The drug lord was more relaxed at home, his sanctuary away from his life of crime. He would dance with you in the kitchen while you were cooking and sing to himself in the shower. He would also never hang up his leather jacket, which led to a bit of a tiff between you both.

Finding out each other’s quirks was expected in a relationship, but what you didn’t expect was to come home early from work one day to find Nevada lounging on the couch, watching an episode of Leave It To Beaver. He was cracking up at a corny joke Mr. Cleaver was telling Beaver when he noticed your presence and immediately tried to change the channel. But it was too late, you had caught him red-handed.

He mumbled some excuse about channel surfing before heading out to meet with his men. After he left, you sat down and watched the wholesome show, your mind boggled over what the appeal was to your drug dealing murderous boyfriend when you had a light bulb moment.

A week after the incident, you stood in front of the mirror, tightening the strings of your apron before swiping the cherry red lipstick across your lips. Turning from side to side, you looked yourself over one final time, admiring the way the crinoline slip rustled under your polka dotted full skirt swing dress.

A timer going off in the background brought you back to reality, Nevada would be home any minute and you still had to put the finishing touches on your dinner. Your heels clacked against the floor as you ran back to the kitchen to pull the meatloaf out of the oven and scoop the potatoes into a serving dish. Placing all the food on the table, you lit some candles and turned on some 50s kitsch lounge music.

You ran to stand in the foyer when you heard movements outside the apartment and a key unlocking the door. Waiting for Nevada with a dirty martini in your hand, you let out a nervous sigh, hoping this would be a fun fantasy for your boyfriend.

“Y/N? I’m home,” Nevada announced, opening the door only to stop in his tracks when he saw you standing there dressed like a housewife from the 1950s. His jaw dropped, eyes widening as he took in your appearance. You had accomplished what many men didn’t think was possible. You shocked Nevada Ramirez. Shock soon turned into laughter and the drug lord was bent over, holding his side as he laughed harder than he had in years. “Y/N!  What the actual fuck?”

A blush formed on the apples of your cheeks. You straightened up a bit and smiled, continuing with your act. “Welcome home, my darling. How was your day at the office?” You helped Nevada shed his leather jacket and handed him the martini.

“Office?” he exclaimed. “Oye, pero estas loca? You been dipping into my stash?

“It’s a surprise! Now go wash your hands, dinner’s ready,” you replied, pushing your boyfriend to the bathroom

Nevada cleaned up for dinner and went to sit at the table just as you were slicing meatloaf to put on his plate. He scanned the room, studying the ambiance you had created. The music, the food, the outfit, it all suddenly clicked into place.

“I know what this is.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “This is about last week when you caught me watching Leave It To Beaver. Isn’t it?”

You feigned innocence, simply shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He quirked his eyebrow, staring you down, knowing you would eventually crack. “Ok...yes, you caught me. It is because of the show but I just wanted to do something special for you. You’re el hombre de la casa y el rey de mi corazón. I love you so much.” You smiled at him and placed your hand in his.

“I love you too, mi reina,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on your fingers before digging into his meal.

Nevada leaned back in his chair, scratching his stomach when he finished his dinner. “That was delicious, baby.”

“Gracias, mi amor. I’m so glad you liked it.” You kissed his cheek, getting up from the table. “I hope you saved room for dessert. I made an apple pie.” He watched your ass as you strutted into the kitchen, your hips swaying from side to side. His cock was already half hard thinking of all the dirty, lust filled acts he wanted to do, how badly he wanted to defile you and strip you of your squeaky clean facade.

When you came back to the table, Nevada grabbed your hand, pulling you down on his lap, nearly causing you to drop the pie. “Nevada! What are you doing?”

“Forget the fucking pie,” he growled, taking the pie plate from your hands and placing it on the table. “I know what I want for dessert, Mami.” He arched his hips upward, kissing along your neck, his teeth grazing against your pulse point. The vein practically throbbing underneath your soft skin. He sucked a deep purple bruise and moved back to trace it with his finger, admiring his handiwork.

Leaning forward, he stuck his finger in the pie, gathering some of the fruit filling and dragging it across your lips. He cupped your face, kissing you hungrily, running his tongue against your own. “Mmmm, you taste so much sweeter than any pie,” he purred.

You softly moaned and grinded down against him, the rough denim from his jeans creating a delicious friction against your center. “But...what if Wally and the Beaver hear us?” You batted your lashes at him, accentuating your sensual pout.

Nevada smirked against your skin. “Let them. I want everyone to hear you scream my name when I fuck you.”

“Take me, Nevada. I’m yours,” you whispered against his lips. He cupped your ass and stood from the table. You wrapped your legs around his waist to assist him, your mouth never leaving his as he carried you into the bedroom.

He set you down on your feet near the end of the bed. His hands roaming your form until they wrapped around the pearl necklace you were wearing and tugged you closer to him. “Get on your knees,” he said, unzipping his jeans and freeing his erection. “You’re gonna suck my cock wearing your pearls.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. Kneeling in front of him, you wrapped your delicate hand around his hard cock and began to place soft kisses along his shaft. You ran your tongue up the underside of him, tracing his vein before flicking against his weeping crown.

Nevada’s green eyes bore into yours. Just as you were about to take more of him into your mouth, he pulled away, holding his cock just out of reach. You whined, trying to wrap your lips around him as he continued to tease you. “What’s the matter, mi amor? You want my cock?” he cooed.

You eagerly nodded your head, looking up him with doe eyes and an open mouth.

He smirked. “You gotta beg for it. Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please Nevada, mi rey. Dame tu pinga. Fuck my mouth, Papi,” you whimpered, running your hands up his thighs.

“Well….since you asked so nicely.” He traced your lips with the head of his cock before guiding himself into your mouth. You moaned, his salty precum flooded your tongue. Taking him down to the base, you gagged as he pushed back past your throat.

Nevada threw his head back and groaned, threading his fingers in your hair and holding your head down for several seconds, relishing the sensation of your throat tightening around his cock. “Oh yeah. That’s it, baby. Take it all,” he growled, pulling you back up. Once you caught your breath, you eagerly took him down again, bobbing up and down.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, watching himself disappear between your lips as he thrusted into your mouth. Tears began to pool in your eyes and drool was dribbling down your chin onto the front of your dress while you continued to deep throat him, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the pleasure you were giving Nevada, his grunts and groans leaving you dripping with desire.

“You love sucking my cock. Don’t you?” he panted. You whined around him in response and moved your hand up to gently massage his balls. He tightened his hold on your hair, his hips bucking forward while you swallowed him down again and again. You hummed, licking and sucking, your tongue paying close attention to the “v” on the underside of his throbbing organ, gently squeezing his balls.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna come!” he warned in a strained voice, taking his hand off the back of your head. Feeling his cock twitch, you sank him deeper into your mouth, your nose brushing against his pubic hair. His hips stuttered forward as he came with a loud groan, shooting his ejaculate down your throat.

“Holy fuck! Oh God.” He shuddered, watching you swallow everything he gave you.

You pulled off him with a pop, your chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks and a smile firmly planted on your face. “I didn’t spill a single drop, Papi.”

“That’s my good little slut.” Nevada grinned and helped you up to your feet. “Now take off your dress. I’m gonna fuck you into next week.”

You gifted Nevada a passion fueled kiss, allowing him to taste himself on your tongue before stepping away to strip. Your dress fell off your body, pooling at your feet only to reveal the bondage lingerie you had purchased from Bordelle. Your breasts and throbbing wet sex were covered by black satin straps and not much else. You loved wearing the kinky undergarments underneath your modest dress.

“Like what you see,” you softly said.

Nevada smirked and gave you a look of pure sin as he walked around you, drinking you in from head to toe, humming in appreciation. He stood behind you, your back flush against his chest, licking the shell of your ear, biting on the lobe. “Mmhmm, you look good enough to eat.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he moved to stand in front of you, pulling a switchblade knife out of his pocket. He licked the blade and inched closer to you. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his face softening a bit. No matter hard you both played in the bedroom, Nevada always wanted to make sure that you felt safe and secure.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled.

As soon as he heard your confirmation, his eyes became dark again, running the tip of the blade down your sternum before circling your nipple. Your breath hitched, feeling the cold sharp metal drag to the center of your chest. With one swift movement, Nevada sliced the fabric to shreds, exposing your breasts causing you to gasp in surprise.

“I’ll buy you a new set,” he purred, inching the knife down your stomach. Tracing your bikini line, he moved over to your hip cutting the satin straps off your panties. You bit back a moan. Your juices were practically running down your leg as you stood there completely naked, wearing only your pearl necklace. Silk and lace littered the floor like confetti.

Tossing his knife to the side, Nevada’s fingers ghosted down your body. He roughly squeezed your breast. Dipping his head, he swirled his tongue around your nipple before biting down on it hard while he moved his hand to your other breast pinching and rolling the hardened bug between his fingers. You let your head fall back and whined, arching into his touch as he dragged his tongue across the valley between your breasts and repeating his actions.

“Oh God! Please! Cogeme fuerte, mi amor,” you whimpered.

Nevada moved his hand down to your cup your pussy, tracing your seam with a single digit. “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you so hard, you forget your own name?”

“Si, Papi,” you replied, shamelessly spreading your legs wider. “Te necesito.” In one swift movement, he turned you around to face the bed, planting your hands on the mattress to brace yourself, plunging two fingers inside you without warning. You moaned loudly, pushing back against him. Having been so worked up earlier, your body already teetering towards an orgasm.

He continued to thrust into you, abruptly stopping when he felt your walls begin to flutter against his fingers. Gripping your hair tight, he tilted your head back. “Don’t you dare fucking come,” he growled in your ear. “You’re my dirty little slut and I decide when you come. Me entiendes?”

“Y-y-yes, Nevada. I’ll only come when you tell me to.” You shivered, his rough tone turning you on even more.

“Good girl.” He kissed your cheek, slowly pumping his fingers again, his lips leaving a scorching trail of kisses down your spine that set your skin on fire. Kneeling down, he removed his fingers, sucking them clean before biting down on your ass cheek. He smacked the other cheek causing you to yelp in surprise, grinning at the red handprint beginning to form.

Switching sides, he smacked you again just as hard, running his fingers up your thighs and spreading open your wet folds. The pink luscious flesh quivered under his touch. “Look at the mess you’re making. You’re dripping.”

He didn’t hesitate to bury his face in your center. Groaning at your taste, he noisily licked and sucked at your sensitive feminine parts, gently tugging your labia.

“Oh Nevada! Fuck!” you moaned as he pushed his tongue inside you as far as it would go, lapping up your sweet nectar. He thrusted into your sheath, flicking over your entrance and moving his mouth up to suck on your clit.

“Mmmm your pussy is so sweet. I’m getting hard all over again just from tasting you,” he purred, biting your inner thigh and moving back up to run his teeth over your glistening pink pearl.

You grinded down against his mouth, half sobbing, feeling a spring tighten in the pit of your stomach. He held your thighs in place, his lips smacking against your wetness as he increased his suction on your clit.

“Nevada! Please, baby!” Tears threatened your eyes, fighting back the urge to come.

Just as you were at the brink, he ceased his efforts, kissing up your back, leaving wet spots on your spine. He tilted his face towards you, running his thumb against your bottom lip. “Awwww pobrecita,” he cooed, taunting you. “Do you want to come?”

You fervently nodded your head and crawled on the bed, getting on all fours. You whimpered a bit, looking back at him with pleading eyes. “Fuck me, Papi. Let me feel that big cock pound into me.”

Nevada groaned around a smirk at the sight of your pulsating wet sex, waiting and ready for him. He was still completely dressed, only taking his cock out. There was something so erotic about him being fully clothed while you were naked, exposed, vulnerable, spread out for him to do what he pleased with. Nevada may have been a dangerous man to others, but not with you. You trusted him with all your heart.

He licked his palm and stroked himself before aligning himself with your entrance and plunging into your folds, groaning when your hips made contact. You moaned loudly, your eyes rolling back into your head, feeling a deep burn as your inner walls enclosed around him.

Grabbing your hips, he rammed into you at a bruising pace, grunting with every hard thrust. “You like being fucked hard, Mami?” he purred.

“Yes! I love how your big cock fills me up!” you cried, gripping onto the bed sheets so hard your knuckles were white.

He moaned and slapped your ass hard, continuing to piston into you causing the headboard to repeatedly strike the wall.

“Please more! Give it to me!” you practically screamed, moaning so loudly you felt like a porn star.

Your body propelled forward as he slammed into you within an inch of your life.  “Coño, I’m not going to able to sit down tomorrow,” you thought. The strong steady sound of flesh slapping against each other echoed around the room.

“Oh God! I’m going to come! Please let me come for you! Please!” you begged, tears falling down your face. Your whole body trembling, about to tumble over the edge.

Nevada leaned forward, biting into your shoulder. “Come my little slut. Come for Papi”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Unable to hold your arms up any longer, you collapsed onto the bed, screaming into a pillow, coming harder than you ever had before.

He continued to stimulate you through your release before pulling out and flipping you on your back, plunging back into your sheath. You whimpered as he snapped his hips forward, your body oversensitive. “It’s too much.”

“One and done?” Nevada said in an amused tone. “I don’t think so. I want another one from you, my little slut.” He threw your legs over his shoulders, watching your breasts bounce while he pounded you into the mattress.

The pain crossed over into absolute pleasure and soon you were lifting your hips to match his movements. You were thoroughly soaked. Nevada could feel his cock getting wetter with every thrust. Another steady stream of slapping noises coming back with a vengeance.

He groaned, looking down to where he split you open, his cock coated in your arousal as it disappeared inside you. “Oh yeah. I love feeling you cream on my cock,” he growled. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“It’s yours, Papi! Take it!” you sobbed as he moved harder and faster, slamming into you. Your carnal noises became louder, the grunts and moans you both were making drowned out everything else.

Arching his hips, Nevada changed the angle of his thrusts to hit your g-spot while taking two fingers and furiously rubbing your red swollen clit.

You gasped, “Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop, Mami. I want you to come for me again. Come on….come for me!” he demanded.

You arched your back and nearly blacked out as he ripped another orgasm from you. Your walls clenching tight around him while you rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

“Mmmm, good girl. Let go for me, baby.” He smiled, watching you fall apart. He rolled his hips to prolong your orgasm, feeling his own quickly approaching. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, his breath coming in short pants. Biting his bottom lip, he pulled out and stroked himself until he shot his release. Grunting and groaning as streaks of his hot cum painted your stomach and chest.

You came down from your high and looked down at your body, swirling your finger around the white sticky mess. You smiled and licked it off your finger. “Mmmm so good, Papi.”

He grinned, trying to catch his breath. “Don’t move. Let me get you a towel.” Nevada came back from the bathroom with both a wet towel and dry towel, wiping your body clean before drying you off. Tossing the soiled towels in the hamper, he shed his clothes and got into bed with you, pulling you close to him.

You hugged him tight, needing to be held after such a hard rough fuck. His fingers danced up and down your arm while he bestowed sweet, gentle kisses on your face. The two of you lay there completely sated and exhausted, until you broke the silence. “Nevada?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why do you like Leave It to Beaver?” you asked while absentmindedly stroking his hair.

He let out a long sigh. “ A couple years ago, I got shot in the stomach. It was real bad. I was laid up for two months. I couldn’t leave the apartment or anything. One day, I was in bed, bored out of mind, flipping channels and I came across Leave It to Beaver.” He softly chuckled as he thought back to the memory, “I actually enjoyed it. It was like an escape, ya know? A chance to forget about my troubles. Now everytime I need to just get away or clear my head, I put on that show and stop worrying about the world. It’s stupid, I know.”

Nevada was more than just a hardened criminal, he was a man and just like everyone else, he too needed to breakaway from the harsh realities of life and you were honored to be one of the few people that got to see that side of him.

“It’s not stupid. It’s sweet.” You traced one of the healed bullet holes on his chest with your finger, kissing it gently before placing a tender kiss on his lips, resting your forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you for tonight,” he whispered. “You know, if you have any fantasies or anything, you can always let me know.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively while playfully pinching your hip.

You giggled and played with his fingers. “Well…. I’ve always had a thing for pirates. You know like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Oye, I love you but I don’t know how I feel about dressing up like a fucking pirate.”

“I have you, that’s fantasy enough.” You lazily kissed his chest, snuggling closer to him. “Although you would look so hot in that tricorn hat and leather boots.”

Nevada snorted a laugh and kissed the top of your head. “Good night, mi amor.”

“Good Night,” you softly said as your eyes began to close, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

After your “fifties housewife fantasy” evening, you had forgotten about even mentioning your pirate fantasy to Nevada until one day at work. You were typing away on your laptop when your coworker stopped by your desk with a black velvet box and rolled up note that was stuck in a glass bottle. “Hey, a messenger stopped by and left this for you while you were away at lunch.”

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion at the cryptic present. Taking the paper out of the bottle, you unscrolled it to reveal a simple message:

“Wear this when I plunder your booty” -Captain Nevada

Turning towards the box that accompanied the bottle, you opened it to find a beautiful diamond necklace staring up at you. The jewels reflected against the afternoon sunlight streaming through your office window causing tiny prisms to dance across your skin. You fingered the piece gently and shivered a bit, thinking about your boyfriend and what you would come home to this evening. Nevada truly was a man full of surprises.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarlettsoldier @amirightcounselor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @imagine-all-the-imagines @imjustreallynosy @graniairish @ashley-chi @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613​

[kiruuuuu]

More Montagne/Bandit in which Bandit doesn’t let Montagne sleep but it’s not for the reasons one might assume. - written for @kapcan​, as usual, and @magehir​ who dragged me into this hole in the first place, and also for @kiruuuuu​  because these two make me inordinately happy. (Rating M, fluff/sexual elements, ~1.8k words)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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Montagne yawns for the third time in a row and it’s a vicious one, a yawn which makes him tear up and shudder and shake his head afterwards to try and clear it of the residual fatigue yet fails spectacularly. His vision blurs if he sits still long enough and his concentration is waning the further the day progresses. It’s only lunch hour and he’s more than ready for a nap, even contemplates just resting his head on the wooden surface of the table at which he’s sitting for a few minutes but figures he’d probably slam his forehead into his sandwich instead if he actually decided to go for it.

“Didn’t get enough sleep last night?”, asks Rook cheekily and nudges his side with an elbow. The young operator is wearing a wide grin and Montagne knows why – he’s one of the few who openly show nothing but support for them. It’s a relief to have someone with whom he can share details of just how much Bandit’s and his own life are interwoven at this point; his heart is bursting with all the joy he’d like to spread, even with the most recent outlet of being allowed to kiss Bandit in public. He frequently makes use of it, stops Bandit, lifts his chin gently and presses their lips together; leans around him and catches the corner of his mouth with his or pulls him onto his lap for a series of deep, intimate kisses. Mentioning to Rook how calming it is to wake up and find Bandit drooling on his pillow next to him sates a different kind of need, however, soothes an odd striving for validation.

Neither of them should feel ashamed of each other or their own feelings and Rook is doing his part in chasing away this notion. Bandit especially seems to need it and he’s begun hanging around the young Frenchman more than before, embarrassedly waving away any comments on their relationship or switching topics as soon as Rook brings it up, and yet Bandit continues to seek him out a lot of the time.

“No, not really”, Montagne answers readily and suppresses a sigh. He’s not complaining, far from it, he had all reason not to sleep.

“Did you keep him up, Dom?” Rook isn’t done with his inquiries and directs this one at a similarly groggy-looking Bandit who’s just finishing up his meal and halfway out the room already. The implication couldn’t have been more obvious and so, when Bandit responds with a simple yeah, Rook dissolves into scandalised giggles. It’s just as easy to tell what he’s thinking as it is to guess everyone else’s thoughts. Most of them seem to assume Rook is correct, only with the addition that Bandit is a crazed sex fiend who is wilfully costing Montagne his well-deserved respite, some believe Bandit is merely looking for attention and keeping Montagne up as a test of how much he cares and fewer people still – mostly the GSG9 – are convinced it’s Bandit’s nightmares making it impossible for them to enjoy peaceful sleep.

They’re all wrong, albeit to varying degrees.

Sometimes, Montagne wakes up to an empty bed in the middle of the night. He knows he’s being given a choice: either he gets up and joins Bandit in his insomnia or he turns around and keeps sleeping – it’d definitely be possible for him to drift away back into unconsciousness and Bandit wouldn’t blame him, quite the opposite. And yet Montagne always leaves the cosy, warm bed behind. It’s still a choice, even if the decision he makes is unfailingly the same.

Last night, he found Bandit browsing his phone while seeking shelter in a spare blanket, an inadequate substitution for Montagne’s body heat and yet Bandit’s preferred option over risking disturbing Montagne’s sleep by moving too much. The first thing he does is ensure Bandit is safe, pulls him into his arms, onto his lap, listens for his heartbeat and his breathing. Since both are regular and calm, he focuses on different things, brushes over the back of Bandit’s neck with his nose, rubs his limbs until he can be sure they’re not numb and murmurs a few easy-to-answer questions about the things Bandit’s been reading on the small, much too bright screen. Once he’s thawed, Montagne sucks a light lovebite onto his shoulder, making him squirm and swat at him in protest but both of them end up chuckling over each other.

This is when Montagne knows he’s won. This is the point where Bandit stops all pretence of telling him to go back to bed, of not wanting him to stay up. Instead, he accepts Montagne’s presence, quietly grateful, and treats him like he would during the day, complaining about this thing or that, asking about a few things which preoccupied Montagne before, and suggesting some activities. They’ve found a good balance between hobbies they prefer doing alone or with others and ones they actually do together, regardless of whether they’d be interested in them by themselves or not. Bandit has started spending more time in the shooting range just because Montagne visits it often and Montagne goes out drinking more frequently now even though he doesn’t drink much – but neither does Bandit. He hasn’t gone overboard once since Montagne joined him and it seems he prefers it this way, too. He off-handedly mentioned sometimes being unable to stop, a problem which apparently vanishes in Montagne’s company.

While Montagne recounts how Rook was able to make Blitz blush furiously earlier, Bandit’s stomach growls comically loud – this is yet another one of the grievances Montagne has with the way Bandit treats himself: he forgets to eat. If he didn’t know better, if he didn’t know it really was just absent-mindedness and a general lack of self-care, he’d think Bandit was deliberately starving himself as some strange kind of punishment. It’s improved significantly already but if Montagne doesn’t check up on him regularly, he still can’t be sure of Bandit’s eating habits.

They end up in the kitchen at Montagne’s gentle insistence, illuminated only by the warm light of the kitchen hood and dancing around each other as Montagne prepares some French toast and Bandit is absolutely useless and nothing but in the way and giggles every time Montagne has to move him. He does this often and never once has Montagne minded because whenever he brushes past Bandit, a hand reaches out to touch various parts of his body or a kiss is pressed against his skin or a cheek rubbed on his upper arm. Bandit knows they both like it and enjoys the fact Montagne doesn’t get annoyed or impatient with him, merely exasperated yet still fond. While Montagne uses the stove, Bandit squeezes in between, leeches the heat from both and starts distractedly humming an unfamiliar melody as he slowly melts against Montagne’s front.

Eventually, he starts actually singing and Montagne is surprised to hear it’s neither out of tune nor lacking presence, it’s a bit self-conscious but done well regardless of the lyrics: “And maybe we’ll do / in a squirrel or two / while we’re poisoning pigeons in the park.” Montagne’s snickering boosts his confidence and so he continues, louder: “We’ll murder them all amid laughter and merriment / except for the few we take home to experiment.”

It’s morbid and right up Bandit’s alley, so Montagne prompts him to keep going. A few verses he enjoys silently but he relishes the hitch in Bandit’s voice when he reaches around and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants even more. Normally, Montagne would never initiate anything in a place where they could get caught but it’s the middle of the night and the way Bandit keeps accidentally brushing up against his crotch left Montagne fidgety anyway. The song dies on Bandit’s lips as soon as fingers encircle his awakening member and makes way for soft moans which turn more frantic after Montagne has turned him around and sunk to his knees. He hasn’t done this before yet is eager to try all of a sudden, engulfs the head and licks and sucks, tries to remember all the divine things Bandit usually does to him and doesn’t seem to be doing a terrible job if Bandit’s disbelieving groans mean anything.

He’s so focused on memorising all of Bandit’s sensitive spots that he doesn’t notice the smell until Bandit, dishevelled, blissful and clearly annoyed at the interruption, announces: “The fucking toast!”

The next five minutes are filled with heartfelt curses from Bandit’s side as Montagne throws away the charred pieces, long forgotten in the pan, and fries up new toast slices – properly this time. He insists on Bandit eating it all immediately despite the boner tenting his trousers and once his lover is done complaining and eating, they rid the kitchen of any evidence and return to their room. Montagne unsuccessfully tries to make Bandit come hands free for more than half an hour at which point Bandit is desperately begging, almost shying away from his thrusts and moaning at a worrying volume while digging his fingernails into Montagne’s thighs, so he finishes inside and continues practising with his mouth until he’s worried about Bandit starting to hyperventilate any second now. He strokes him in a slow but steady pace all the way through his climax, kissing him simultaneously and swallowing his noises as Bandit trembles under him.

Unlike most other nights, they stayed up, showered together first and went for a quick run in the rising summer sun, lazily smiling at each other now and then but exercising in comfortable silence. Montagne believes he knows why Bandit didn’t want to try sleeping, not even when they had two whole hours still: it’s the fact that this time in the dead of night is wholly theirs, with no one interfering or even the possibility of being interrupted. Montagne has begun toying with the idea of suggesting they move in together.

So when he’s trying his best not to fall asleep in the middle of the day while waiting for a briefing, he isn’t fully aware of his actions until Rook jabs him in the side again and wants to know: “What are you humming?”

Montagne recalls the melody and can’t help but laugh. “A song about poisoning pigeons”, he replies, much to Rook’s confusion, and catches Bandit’s eye on the other side of the room. When his lover flashes him a grin, Montagne decides to ask him later. He suspects Bandit’s initial reaction will be as negative as his ultimate answer positive, so he better raise the topic sooner rather than later.